Walking the Path of Intimacy
by shiro8402
Summary: A supposedly routine migraine leads Stiles to discover that he's pregnant with Derek's child, a situation he did not know was possible. Now he's got to tell the rest of his pack (not to mention his father) but how will they react? How will Derek take the news?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everybody, I would like to say the story that I publish are not written by me.**

**My account only give a stage for stories I read and thought it would be more comfortable to read them hear at fanfiction.**

**The story is called****:**Walking the Path of Intimacy

**By:**Moit

**From: Archive Of Our Own (or for short: ao3)**

**{** ** /works/686727/chapters/1260582}**

**Summery:** A supposedly routine migraine leads Stiles to discover that he's pregnant with Derek's child, a situation he did not know was possible. Now he's got to tell the rest of his pack (not to mention his father) but how will they react? How will Derek take the news?

Featuring pregnant!Stiles with weird food cravings and a pack that is trying their best to accommodate their Alpha's mate.

**Credits are saved for:** Moit

Stomping into the house, Stiles ignored the assembly of the pack in the living room and headed straight up the stairs. The group glanced at one another.

Derek stood from his chair and followed, surprised to see Stiles hadn't bothered to crawl under the blankets, or even remove his shoes. He was curled on top of the comforter, one hand wrapped protectively around his head. Derek lowered himself gently around the boy's body. He worked his face into the juncture between Stiles' cheek and his shoulder, scenting him deeply and exhaling with a pleased rumble.

"What's wrong?"

"Headache," came the clipped reply. He never said "migraine." It was always "headache." Like with his panic attacks, he had a tendency to downplay his aches. He never wanted anyone to know he was in pain, nor did he want to admit to it. One did not have aches and pains at the age of 21, certainly not when nearly all your friends were werewolves who could heal almost anything short of a severed limb. That also negated Derek taking the pain away, because it would only emphasize how fragile and _human_ Stiles was.

"Where's your meds?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the skin of Stiles' neck.

"Can't find them," the boy sighed. His tone was strained, which meant the pain was increasing. With a gentle squeeze to his boyfriend's arm, Derek pulled himself away. He retrieved the spare pill bottle from behind the photograph of himself and Laura on the dresser. It remained hidden for times like this when the other one went missing. He shook out one pill and set the bottle carefully back in its place with a fond smile at his deceased sister's image. Losing his last remaining family member did not get easier over the years; the pain just became more manageable.

Derek filled a glass with water in the bathroom. "Here, I found you one," he said softly, holding out the pill and the glass.

Stiles squinted up at him. He leveraged himself onto one elbow to take the medicine, and then lay back down.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

Kicking his shoes onto the floor, Stiles crawled under the comforter. "Normally I would say yes, but considering you're a big giant werewolf blanket of heat, I'm going to say no. If I get any hotter, I'm going to throw up."

Derek neglected to point out that getting _in_ bed was likely to increase his body temperature. "Okay," he said and leaned down to kiss the boy's forehead. "If you need anything, just let me know."

That night it was Isaac's turn to cook, and not even the smell of burgers and curly fries was enough to rouse Stiles from sleep. As the rest of the pack sat down to eat, Derek ventured back upstairs. The boy was sprawled across the bed, his face buried between the pillows, as if seeking out the presence of his usual companion while he slept. He opened his eyes when the bed dipped.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Are you ready for something to eat?"

Stiles rolled onto his back and smacked his lips. "What time is it?"

"About five-fifteen. You've been asleep for a little over two hours. How's your head?"

"Still muggy, but I can probably get up for a little while." He took a deep breath and his eyes lit up. "Did Isaac make curly fries?"

Derek's lips quirked into a rare smile. "I made sure the rest of the pack saved enough for you."

With a noise of acknowledgement, the boy dragged himself out of bed and pulled on his favorite red hoodie. It had earned him many 'little red' jokes over the years, but he couldn't help that it was his favorite, not to mention how soft it was from countless washings.

Downstairs, Stiles helped himself to a handful of curly fries.

"Is that all you're eating?" Erica asked as he popped one in his mouth.

"Maybe." He shrugged noncommittally. "Depends on how I feel when I finish these."

"How's your head?" Allison asked. Really, the girl was too nice for her own good. Other than the fact that she was a bow-wielding daughter of a werewolf hunter. Not to mention that time she shot Boyd, Erica, and Isaac with said bow. Such is the dynamic of the Hale pack.

Stiles snatched up several fries and smiled around them as if to emphasize that he was fine. "It still hurts. Just gonna eat and go back to bed," he said through his mouthful.

The soft chatter gradually increased around the table, although Stiles remained uncharacteristically silent. Derek gave him a few meaningful looks, but he warded him off with a shake of his head.

Suddenly, Stiles dropped the curly fry in his hand and jumped up from the table like his ass was on fire. Even the humans at the table could clearly hear him retching in the bathroom.

"Well, I'm done," Jackson said, pushing his plate away in disgust.

"Don't blame Isaac's food," Lydia chastised. "Migraines commonly cause nausea and vomiting."

"He has smelled funny lately," Scott offered, meeting the eyes of the other werewolves.

"He's _fine_," Derek said with a finality that ended the conversation. Of course he noticed the change in Stiles' scent; it was the same, but sharper . . . warmer. It seemed familiar, but the answer lurked at the edge of the werewolf's memory, like a dream from which he'd just woken. He and any of his wolves could smell sickness, so a non-sick change in scent was no cause for worry just yet.

The toilet flushed and the bathroom door opened. Stiles didn't even bother coming back into the dining room; he just headed back upstairs.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of headaches and nausea. Half the time Stiles would throw up after eating. Sometimes he threw up for no reason. Oddly enough, he seemed to be gaining weight, rather than losing it. Even extensive Internet research provided no answers. WebMD gave him everything from migraines and sinusitis to nearsightedness and carbon monoxide poisoning. Of course, if he was suffering from any of those ailments (or a brain aneurysm, as suggest by Google) he was fairly confident one of the werewolves would tell him because there was no way they couldn't smell _that_. Even dogs could be trained to smell cancerous cells.

With no other options, he turned to his digital copy of the bestiary. Whatever was affecting him had to be supernatural. Most of the compendium was information about creatures he hoped never to face in real life. His heart skipped a beat when he turned to the section on werewolves. He hadn't paid much attention to that section initially, hadn't really needed to in the wake of the Jackson-as-Kanima attacks. As it turned out, reading this chapter would have been incredibly useful when he started a relationship with an Alpha. Then again, he also expected that Derek would have filled him in on these things. So much for not having secrets in the pack. His eyes nearly crossed at the words "mate," "bond," and "pregnancy." He was practically seeing red as all the pieces fell into place.

Stiles closed his computer with a snap. He felt the anger swelling in his chest, pushing out the feelings of worry, fear, and anxiety. He sat in the bedroom and stewed over his anger for the entire two hours it took Derek to return home. Thankfully, the rest of the pack were either at school or work, because he did not want to involve them in what promised to be a heated argument.

Stiles thundered down the stairs. His boyfriend was pouring a glass of orange juice like he had no idea what was going on. Like he had no idea that Stiles just spent the last two hours freaking out to the point of nearly driving himself to the ER to get sedated.

"What do you think you're doing?" Stiles growled.

Derek lowered the cup from his mouth and swallowed. "I'm thirsty. Why? What's wrong?" he asked, the sound of the boy's hammering heartbeat finally reaching his ears.

"Like you don't know. You really expect me to believe that? You couldn't have just told me. No, of course not. That would have been too easy. What, were you worried that I would leave or something? Well, it's a little late now. Unless that's why you didn't tell me." His eyes narrowed suspiciously and his lips curled into a snarl.

"Stiles, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your freaky fucking Alpha werewolf sperm impregnating me! You knocked me up, you asshole!" He shook his head. "God, my dad is going to fucking kill me. Well, first he's going to kill me, then he's going to kill you."

Instead of confirming the accusations, however, Derek's face was a mask of confusion. "You're not lying," he said, his eyebrows drawing together.

"Of course I'm not lying, you . . . you . . . _buttplug_! You fucking werewolf-knot-in-your-dick-having buttplug! Why would I make this up?" He huffed out a breath with the force of his frustration.

Derek was quiet for a long moment with that preternatural stillness, just staring at Stiles so intensely it almost seemed like he'd stopped breathing. "That's why you smell different," he said suddenly, so softly the boy almost didn't hear him.

"Well . . . yeah," Stiles said, gesturing erratically with one hand and then dropping it to his side.

"My dad told me this could happen between a male Alpha and his male mate, but that was so long ago. And it's so rare." Derek walked around the kitchen island so he could lay his hands gently on Stiles' waist. "You're pregnant."

"Looks like it."

"I'm the father."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "That better not be a question. I'm not ending up on some werewolf version of Maury Povich just to have him say 'Derek Hale, you _are_ the father.' My life is weird enough without you denying the paternity of the freaky werewolf baby you put in my body."

"Stiles!" Derek's voice rose in effort to stop him from rambling. "I'm not . . . I'm just surprised. I didn't—I'd forgotten this was even possible."

"Well, you've got a step up from me there, Alpha Wolf." He glanced down and then back up at intense blue eyes. "How is it going to come out?" he asked, because that seemed to be the only question of which he was currently capable.

"Deaton will probably perform a cesarean," Derek said, sliding his hands together behind Stiles' waist to pull him closer. He snuffled at the skin behind his mate's ear, scenting him deeply. "Now that I know why you smell different, it's really turning me on."

"Seriously?" Stiles lifted his head. "I find out I'm pregnant, and your response is to try to impregnate me further? I don't know what's—"

Derek cut him off by pressing their mouths together. Stiles moaned into the kiss. Admittedly, kissing was never a bad idea, and he'd read somewhere that pregnancy makes women (and himself, apparently) more aroused in early stages.

He allowed Derek to guide his legs around the werewolf's hips and carry him up the stairs. The novelty of his ability to lift Stiles' 140-pound not-exactly-light body would probably never wear off. Then again, his weight was going to increase significantly over the next few months. Stiles groaned, despite the wonderful things Derek's mouth was currently doing to his neck.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, as he gently lowered Stiles to the bed.

"I'm going to get fat," the boy sighed, feeling as ridiculous as he sounded.

"No, you're not," Derek insisted, pushing Stiles' t-shirt up his chest. "You're growing with our child. You're going to be so full of life, you'll be bursting with it." His voice had gone low with desire and _wolf_. His large hands covered Stiles' as-yet still flat belly.

"That's a very colorful description of what's going to happen to my body in the next nine months and in no way is it creepy. Thank you for that," Stiles said sarcastically. "You really know how to reassure a guy."

Derek pressed the steel-like hardness of his erection into Stiles' hip by way of reply.

"This, uh, really turns you on, doesn't it?"

Derek looked up at him, his eyes pure alpha-red. The sight sent a jolt straight to his mate's cock.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

Derek growled, a low, throaty sound like a lupine signal of pleasure. Stiles fumbled with the button and zipper on his jeans. For all his anger earlier, there was nothing more enticing than his Alpha kneeling over him growling—signaling—that he wanted sex.

Stiles threw his jeans over the side of the bed and shimmied out of his t-shirt and button-down as quickly as possible. Derek didn't even bother getting undressed; he just pulled his half-hard cock out of his fly and began stroking it, making Stiles salivate at the sight. He desperately wanted to get his mouth on that, but Derek didn't seem inclined to wait. He pressed his cock between the cheeks of his boyfriend's ass, making him jump in surprise.

"Whoa, big boy! Lube. Still human, remember?"

"Sorry," Derek grumbled, pulling away. Instantly, his eyes faded and his face lost its wolf characteristics. He reached for the tube on the nightstand.

"You didn't need to _stop_," Stiles admonished, taking the tube from Derek's hand. He slicked his fingers and reached under himself as the werewolf watched with keen eyes that slowly began to glow red again. "That's it," the boy sighed, sliding another finger in alongside the first, although he wasn't sure to whom he was talking. Derek leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to his open mouth. Stiles mewled into the kiss, allowing his mate to swallow his moan of pleasure.

"Are you ready?" Derek asked, fisting his own cock.

"Impatient much?" Stiles said, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the sheet. His body was practically _thrumming_ with anticipation. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Derek lined up and pressed forward. He didn't stop until he bottomed out, sending frissons of painful pleasure throughout Stiles' entire body. The boy pulled him down for another kiss, sucking at Derek's face like he wanted to be devoured.

"I have to move," Derek panted, pulling away. He lifted himself up so that his arms supported his weight. He pulled out and pushed back in smoothly, earning a low keening noise. They built up a steady rhythm; he dropped to his elbows as the pressure increased, and Stiles clawed at his back, desperately seeking release. He found it as Derek's knot slipped inside his body, forcing the head of Derek's cock against his prostate. He came with a choked moan, writhing and mewling on the werewolf's cock like a cat in heat.

Derek gave a few more aborted thrusts, dropping his head to Stiles' shoulder and biting down firmly on his collarbone as he filled his mate's body with warm release. He rumbled softly when Stiles ran his fingertips down the back of his sweaty t-shirt as they both struggled to catch their breath.

"I think I'm starting to cramp," Stiles grunted, unlocking his ankles and dropping his feet to the bed.

Lifting himself up as well as he could without jerking on the place where they were tied, Derek helped Stiles fold one long leg to his chest so he could roll onto his side with Derek spooned up tightly behind him. Derek's fingers played up and down the nude line of his mate's body. His hand slid over Stiles' hip, coming to rest low on his belly, just above the base of his sated cock.

"How is it," Stiles began, threading their fingers together, "that despite the fact that you have a wolf knot, you were completely unaware said knot could impregnate me?" The anger had long since faded, leaving behind anxiety and a sliver of excitement in its stead. Once he got over the initial shock, Stiles knew his father would be excited about having a grandchild when he'd initially assumed that having a bisexual son who was in a relationship with a man meant he would probably never be called "grandpa." Stiles himself loved children, and he knew Derek would be a great father. It was so much scarier though, now that their child was not only a possibility, but an inevitability.

Derek snuffled along the edge of the boy's jaw, sending shivers down his spine. "My knot is something I was born with, and only an Alpha's knot can impregnate its male mate. Laura was supposed to be the Alpha, remember?"

Stiles could hear the hitch in Derek's breath, and for a moment, he worried this was the wrong time to bring up the subject. Open mouth, insert foot, as usual, Stilinski.

"Calm down," Derek said, rubbing their joined hands over Stiles' bare chest. "All I'm trying to say is that my parents and Laura died before they could really tell me any of this. My dad only mentioned it once, briefly. You have to remember, Stiles, that when I was going through puberty, nobody assumed I would ever be an Alpha, let alone mated to a man, so it wasn't exactly relevant information."

Stiles could still hear the frustration in Derek's voice. "I'm sorry if I upset you." He drew their hands up to his face, untangled them, and rubbed his cheek into Derek's palm. It was a gesture that calmed both of them. Derek got to brush his scent further into Stiles' skin, reassuring him with the touch.


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Stiles had the house to himself, he set about researching nearly everything he could find on pregnancy, male pregnancy, Alpha werewolves, and giving birth. The last part really freaked him out, but they'd already established that it was pretty much an impossibility, unless he somehow grew a vagina. His research didn't yield much information, aside from the obvious confirmation that he was, indeed, pregnant.

His eyes fell on the four boxes he'd left in their Walgreen's bag. Steeling his nerves and sighing deeply, he snatched the bag off the dresser and disappeared into the bathroom. He emerged trembling ten minutes later with four positive pregnancy tests in his hands. While he wasn't _surprised_his suspicions were confirmed, it didn't stop his heart from beating faster. This was tangible, _physical_ evidence of what he and Derek suspected. Time to tell the rest of the pack and his father.

Stiles was definitely not looking forward to the latter.

The pack took the news relatively well, which gave Stiles some measure of relief.

"You really had no idea this could happen?" Lydia asked, staring pointedly at Derek.

"Do you really think Derek and I would have done this deliberately if we knew?" Stiles asked, stepping between them. "Well, _now_ at least? Don't you think we would have waited until I finished college? I mean, it's not like I _want_ to take a semester off to have a baby." Beside him, Derek gave a low growl, but Stiles pressed their knees together to shut him up.

"We're behind you guys, no matter what you decide," Allison said. She smacked Scott insistently on the arm. "Right?"

"Well—yeah," Scott said uneasily. "You're my best friend, Stiles. It's just that . . . dude, you're a pregnant dude."

Stiles had to laugh at that, and he felt some of the tension bleed out of his body. "Tell me about it. It can't be much worse than finding out you're a werewolf, though, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's going to be _so_ weird."

"You're preaching to the choir," Stiles agreed.

Derek looked at the three remaining betas, the wolves he'd made himself, who had yet to add anything to the conversation. "What do you guys think?"

Isaac was the first to answer. "I think it's great. I never had any siblings growing up, so I love the idea of having a baby in the pack. Any time you need a sitter, Stiles, you know who to ask."

"I'll remember that," Stiles said, returning Isaac's grin.

Boyd shrugged. "Congratulations, I guess. I'm not really a kid-person, but I'm happy, if you're happy."

Stiles glanced at Derek. Though he couldn't hear Boyd's heartbeat, he knew he was telling the truth.

"Erica?" Derek asked, when the only female beta remained reticent.

"I don't care," she snapped dramatically. "You and your little brood mare can do whatever you want; I don't know why it should have anything to do with _me_." She pushed away from the table and stomped out of the house. Boyd made as if to follower her, but Derek stopped him.

"Let her go. I'll deal with her later."

Stiles may not have been able to tell what was going on outside of his own human abilities, but he was perceptive enough to know that Erica was not happy about his pregnancy.

Telling the Sheriff wasn't as easy as telling the pack, but at least he abstained from the "shoot first, ask later" approach.

"Weren't you—didn't you—Stiles, I gave you condoms." His dad looked completely at a loss for words.

"Dad, werewolves don't get diseases, so there was no reason to."

"Obviously, there was!" the Sheriff replied, sounding flustered.

"Well, we didn't know that much was true, at least." Stiles looked to Derek for help.

"We didn't know Stiles could get pregnant since I'm such a new Alpha." Also not a lie. "We would have waited, if we knew."

Stiles was so proud of his boyfriend, he could have jumped up and kissed him. "Well, based on my research, and what I can gather—we haven't talked to Deaton yet—but I figure I'm probably about six weeks along. That means the baby will be due about July, so we'll have a summer baby. Well, werebaby. You're going to be a grandpa! Or would that mean a were-grandpa?"

"Is it going to be a werewolf?" the Sheriff asked.

Derek looked just as unsure. "I have no idea," he replied honestly. "Laura and I were born werewolves, but my younger sister, Jenny, was human. My parents were also born werewolves, so there's really no telling. There's probably a 50/50 shot either way."

"It's a werewolf," Stiles said emphatically, placing one hand against the barely noticeable swell of his belly.

"I think I need a drink," his father said, heading to the kitchen.

Stiles opened his mouth, but Derek clapped a hand over it. "He's earned one this time." Derek released his boyfriend and followed the Sheriff into the kitchen. "Better make that two, Sir."

Stiles was left alone in the living room with his jaw hanging open.

The next stop on the "Stiles and Derek are pregnant" train was to see Deaton in the hopes that he could give them some answers.

"Derek and Stiles," the vet said, his voice rising on the former and falling on the latter. "I know something's wrong when the two of you show up in my office together."

"Is anyone else here? We kind of need to talk to you alone," Stiles said, eyes roaming the room nervously. For some reason, the vet always gave him the creeps. Then again, it could have something to do with the fact that Derek had almost forced him to cut the werewolf's arm off in there.

Deaton edged past them and locked the door, flipping over the 'open' sign. "How can I help you two today?"

"Derek accidentally impregnated me with his super Alpha sperm," Stiles deadpanned. "Surprise!" he shook his hands in a flourishing gesture for emphasis.

Deaton's eyes flicked to Derek.

"He's not lying. The bestiary confirmed his symptoms and four pregnancy tests backed that up. He smells different, too. I can't really explain it, but he smells like cubs."

"Like cubs?" Stiles asked, turning his attention on Derek.

Derek shrugged. "I told you, I can't explain it. It's one of those things I just . . . know."

"Scent is one of the strongest triggers for memory," Deaton provided. He patted the exam table. "Stiles, why don't you hop up there for me?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "I'm not a dog," he grumbled, but did as he was told.

Deaton wheeled over the ultrasound machine and began setting it up. "Could you lay back and lift your shirt for me, please?" At Stiles' look of irritation, Deaton added, "If you will remember, I am a veterinarian, and out of the goodness of my heart I tend to your supernatural werewolf woes, so if you're going to get pissy with me, you can drive to Beacon Hills General and explain to them how you became the world's first pregnant man. I'm sure Channel 5 would love to have the first interview."

Beside him, Derek was fighting the urge to laugh.

"I hate you both," Stiles huffed, laying back and pulling his shirt up so Deaton could squirt a ridiculous amount of the coldest gel possible onto his skin. "Where do you keep that shit? In the freezer? Jeez!"

Deaton ignored him as he worked the probe methodically over Stiles' skin. Soon a steady pulsing sound came from the machine.

"What the hell is that?" Stiles asked. "Is your computer trying to say that it only accepts animals and you can't see anything?"

"That, Mr. Stilinksi, is the sound of your baby's heartbeat."

Stiles' mouth fell into a little 'o' of surprise. He looked up to find Derek staring intently at him. "She's real," Stiles said softly. He hoisted himself up onto his elbows and peered at the ultrasound screen. "There's just one, right?" His eyes flicked to Derek and back to Deaton. "Derek said I smell like cub_s_, and I just want to make sure."

"It looks to me like there's just one baby in there." Deaton made a face at the image on the screen. "I wish I could say more than that, but I'm not exactly trained for this sort of thing. I'm no ultrasound technician."

"No, that's great, really."

Deaton handed him a box of tissues that had been sitting on the counter. Stiles grabbed a handful and wiped at the gel on his stomach. He pulled his shirt down and hopped off the table.

"Seriously, this was awesome. Thank you."

"We really do appreciate this," Derek added.

"Any time," Deaton said. "I'm always here to . . . indulge your lycanthropic needs."

Stiles gave him a sideways glance, unsure if he was being serious. He looked serious enough. "So, should I like, come back next month, or something? To see how the baby is progressing?"

Deaton sighed deeply. "Yes, Stiles, I think that would be necessary."

"Don't sound so excited," Stiles said, patting him on the back. "You're not the one who has to carry this thing."

"No, I'm the one who has to deliver it."

"Speaking of, after I do have this _were_baby," he put special emphasis on 'were' and grinned at Derek, "do you have anything that would work as like, a werewolf contraceptive?"

"I could always castrate Derek," Deaton offered seriously.

Derek's fangs lengthened and he growled out an immediate, "No."

"He was kidding," Stiles said, patting the fur on the side of Derek's face.

"Oh, was I?" Deaton said, more to himself than the other two.

"I thought you had better control, anyway," Stiles continued.

Derek's face shifted back to human. "How about we cut _your_ balls off, Stiles? I think that idea would help my anxiety a little more."

"Point duly noted," Stiles said, looking appropriately admonished.

Glancing down at his watch, Deaton cleared his throat. "Well, as informative and enlightening as this meeting was, I have a cocker spaniel coming in for a dental cleaning in 20 minutes. Any more questions?"

Stiles looked like he wanted to say something, but a glare from Derek kept him quiet.

Stiles began to show more than he could hide around the twenty-four week mark. Because he had such an athletic build, his belly didn't seem to be growing as large as quickly as many women. It was the middle of March when he and Derek agreed that he should take time off from school before his classmates and professors decided to get suspicious about his sudden weight gain. For the most part, he'd managed to keep himself under control, blaming his nausea on migraines. That statement was always met with sympathetic nods and an end to the curiosity.

Spring break was upon them as well, giving Stiles the excuse he needed to "take some time off school right now so I can deal with some personal issues." His professors were sorry to see him go, but he assured them he would return in the fall. However, his departure from school meant that he spent entirely too much time sitting on the couch watching television and eating Cheetos.

"Don't you have a life anymore?" Erica asked, sitting down in the armchair.

"Of course," Stiles retorted cheerfully. "I'm cooking Derek's baby. What have you done for the pack lately?" He popped another Cheeto in his mouth and gave her an orange grin.

Erica snarled in reply.

Stiles reached back into the bag on his lap when a sharp pain lanced through his midsection. "Oh fuck," he wheezed, clutching the bag to his belly.

"What's wrong?" Erica asked, instantly alert. She could hear the change in Stiles' heartbeat.

"Cramp," Stiles gasped out. "It's probably nothing," he said, as another pain worked its way through his body.

"I'm calling Derek."

"No!" Stiles shouted, rubbing his belly in an effort to reduce the pain. "Don't call Derek," he said, as his breath came back. "I don't want him to worry. Just . . . take me to Deaton."

"Stiles, I don't have a car. Boyd took it this morning, remember?"

"Then you can drive the Jeep," Stiles said, picking his keys up off the coffee table and tossing them at Erica. She caught the key ring, but gave him a look of incredulity.

"I've only ever driven a stick once."

"Well, you're going to have to learn," Stiles said, hauling himself up off the couch.

He hefted himself into the passenger seat with only minimal help from Erica.

"Push in the clutch," Stiles said, as Erica fumbled with the keys. "Now crank the ignition."

As soon as the Jeep started, Erica took her foot off the clutch and it died.

"I can't fucking do this, Stiles!"

"Yes, you can," Stiles soothed as he rubbed his hands over his baby bump. "Push in the clutch and start the Jeep, but don't let off the clutch."

Erica did as she was told. Stiles leaned over and shifted the car into first gear. "Now, let out the clutch _slowly_. As you do that, press on the gas pedal."

Erica let off the clutch too soon and the Jeep died again. It took three more tries with Stiles shifting gears to get them out of the driveway. By the time they were on the road, however, pain surged through Stiles' midsection again.

"You need to shift the gears!" he grunted between breaths.

Anxiously, Erica wrapped her hand around the gear shift and forced the Jeep into second.

"You have to push in the clutch!"

Erica pushed in the clutch and tried to force the car into third gear, but they weren't going fast enough.

"Stay in second! Stay in second!" Stiles panted. "I swear to you, Erica, if you blow up my transmission, I will kill you!"

"Just let me fucking drive, okay?"

Stiles bit down on the inside of his cheek when Erica stopped at a red light without down-shifting and the motor sputtered to a stop. Luckily, there was no one behind them.

"You have to put the gears in neutral when you stop," Stiles said dryly.

"Well, thanks for telling me!" Erica snapped back, her hands tight around the wheel.

Stiles closed his eyes and breathed through the pain as another surge hit.

Somehow Erica managed to tear into the parking lot of Deaton's office without blowing up the Jeep or wrecking them.

"I'm calling Derek _now_," she said as Stiles struggled out of the passenger side.

"Call him," Stiles sighed, finally giving in. "He probably won't answer, though, because I think he's off running naked in the woods, or something. He usually leaves his phone in the Camaro when he does that."

Erica took Stiles' elbow as he made his way across the parking lot.

"What am I, an old lady?" he groused, but allowed her to support him.

"Deaton!" Erica growled as they stepped inside like Stiles' predicament was the vet's fault.

He emerged from the back with a scowl on his face. "You don't need to yell. Other than Scott, I am the only one who works here, and if the door is open, you know I'm in the back."

"Yeah, yeah," Erica said, pushing Stiles forward. "He's in pain. Fix him." Her tone was completely serious.

"Miss Reyes, you might remember where you are. I doubt Derek would appreciate it if Stiles came home without testicles because you told me to _fix_him."

"I think your humor is lost on her," Stiles said, stepping on the stool he now used to climb onto the exam table. Settling his weight, Stiles laid back and lifted his t-shirt so Deaton could take a look.

Just as Deaton concluded that Stiles' pains were nothing more than harmless Braxton Hicks, judging by the fact that they had stopped by the time Stiles and Erica got to the vet, Derek came bursting through the door, claws and fangs exposed. "Stiles?" he growled around his overly-large incisors.

"I'm fine," Stiles sighed, struggling to sit up and pull his shirt down.

Derek cupped a hand around the back of Stiles' neck and rubbed his cheek against the top of his mate's head. "What happened?"

"Stiles is experiencing harmless pre-labor pains. As long as they come in an irregular pattern and do not last for more than about ten minutes, he should be fine. My only suggestion is that you take him home and ensure he _rests_," Deaton said.

"Thank you," he said, looking between Erica and Deaton. "Both of you. For taking care of him."

"Still in the room," Stiles said, sounding agitated. Instead of allowing him to step down from the table himself, Derek lifted him up and set him on the ground, which only served to remind him how human he was.

"I'm not a fucking invalid," he groused, pulling his elbow out of Derek's grip.

When Derek and Erica finally walked outside, Stiles was sitting in the passenger seat of the car with the radio turned up so loud the werewolves could hear it through the car without their heightened sense of hearing. It got worse when Derek opened the door. "Stiles, could you please turn that down?" he asked in the calmest voice he could manage.

Stiles ignored him.

Derek tried again, louder, but Stiles continued to pretend he couldn't hear him. On the third try, Derek shouted, "Stiles!" just as Stiles tapped the knob to turn off the radio. Even Erica jumped at the intensity of Derek's voice.

Stiles drew his eyebrows low over his eyes. "I like that song," he said, as though daring his Alpha to challenge him.

Derek turned his eyes back to the road and drew in a deep breath. The rest of the ride home was silent.

When they got back to the house, Stiles retreated to the bedroom, ignoring Allison, Scott, and Isaac, who were in the living room.

"Is everything okay?" Scott asked, as Derek and Erica walked into the room.

"Stiles is pissy because Derek actually cares about him and somehow I'm stuck in the middle," Erica answered for them. "I'll be in my room, if anyone needs me."

After a long, awkward silence, Allison stood up. "I'm gonna go talk to her." She disappeared up the stairs, leaving the wolves to their own devices.

"Erica?" Allison called softly, knocking on the door.

Erica's call to come in was faint. Allison opened the door cautiously only to find her sitting in the closet surrounded by a mess of clothing and shoes.

"I'm cleaning out," Erica explained. "I've got way too many shoes, shirts that still have the tags on them . . ." she held up a pair of lime green pants that looked at least 3 sizes too large, "and some things that wouldn't fit me without clothespins and duct tape. Why did I even buy this?"

Allison sat down in Erica's desk chair, watching as her friend separated the mountain of fabric into piles. She waited a few minutes before asking, "Is everything okay?"

"Other than these boots?" Erica asked, holding up a pair of white rainboots pattered with butterflies. "Totally."

Two identical t-shirts that read 'Beacon Hills Junior High Girls' Basketball' joined the growing pile.

"I actually meant . . . with Stiles."

Erica's claws slipped out and she accidentally tore apart the blouse she was holding. It went straight into the trash. "What about Stiles?" she asked flippantly, pretending like she hadn't just seen her rend a silk shirt at just the mention of his _name_.

"Erica, I may not be a werewolf, but I can still tell when someone is lying. You've been moody and brooding ever since Stiles told us he was pregnant. What gives? Are you mad he got to Derek first, or something? Because it seems like you're pretty happy with Boyd."

Erica set down the shirt she was folding. "No, it's just—I love Boyd. I do. I don't now, nor have I ever had feelings for Derek. He's my Alpha, and I like it like that. I would never do anything to jeopardize my relationship with him."

"But . . ." Allison prodded.

"But." Erica sighed. "You don't understand. You're not—you're pack, but not the same way I am. You're part of the pack because Scott is, and because you help us. Same with Stiles. He's part of the pack because he's Derek's mate."

"He's done a lot more for the pack, though. It's not just about Derek."

"Oh, I know. But my point is that you guys—the humans—you're pack because you _want_ to be. I have to be. I'm a werewolf being part of a pack gives me beta status, and without the others, I'm an omega. You know what that means for someone like me."

"Yes, but that doesn't explain why you're mad at Stiles," Allison reminded her. "Do you actually think Derek's judging you because Stiles is the one having a baby?"

Erica flipped her long hair over one shoulder. "Don't you get it? If I have one job in this pack, it's to procreate. It's not about _Stiles_ doing it; it's that I haven't. I'm the only female werewolf in this pack, Allison. If it's anyone's responsibility to grow the pack through cubs, it's mine."

Allison blanched. "Do you even want kids? Right now, I mean. And Boyd? Have you guys even talked about this yet?"

"No." Erica gave a humourless laugh. "These are just thoughts I've created in my head, and they're tearing me apart. I don't want kids right now, but my wolf, it's like she feels threatened by Stiles' cub, like I should be pregnant, too, to maintain my place in the pack."

"Have you talked to Derek about this?"

Erica's eyebrows drew up to her hairline. "Hell no. Not just no, but hell no. How am I supposed to tell the Alpha that my wolf—not even me—feels threatened by _his_ mate and _his_ cub? He'd probably kill me."

"You don't know that. As a born werewolf, he might have some insight about it. I realise that he didn't even know Stiles could _get_ pregnant, but his mom had definitely been pregnant, and if he had any aunts, they would have been pregnant too, most likely. He says he comes from a family of born werewolves, so it's a lot more likely that there were pregnant in his pack while he was growing up."

"That's a good point," Erica said, though she didn't sound convinced.

"Or you could talk to Stiles," Allison suggested. "He's definitely not going to kill you."

"That's true. He may be taller than me, but I can fend him off with one hand." She gave a small grin. Crisis averted, for now, at least.

Allison picked up a pair of knee-high leather boots on the floor next to her feet. "Tell me you're aren't pitching these."

"Oh, hell no," Erica said, grabbing for the boots. "These are my babies."

Together, she and Allison sloughed through her vortex of a closet. Erica had gotten a large weight off her chest, and Allison got to indulge her inner fashionista by investigating nearly every piece of clothing Erica owned.

Across the house, Derek was mentally preparing to face a similar battle with Stiles. He trudged up the stairs to find the bedroom empty. "Stiles?" he said tentatively.

"I'm in the bathroom!" Stiles called through the half-opened door.

"Uh, can I come in?" Derek asked, pausing at the wooden barrier between them.

"I don't care," Stiles said in a flat tone.

Derek pushed the door open and was greeted by the sight of Stiles soaking in a bubble bath with only his head and the very top of his belly showing. Derek had never been so grateful he opted for a bathtub long enough to stretch out in when he rebuilt the house.

Stiles had his eyes closed, and made no indication that he heard Derek come in. Derek knelt down next to the tub and folded his arms on the lip. He could feel the heat of the water through the porcelain, and he was sure it felt amazing surrounding Stiles' body.

"Can I help you?" Stiles asked, turning his head to the side and cracking one amber eye open.

For a moment, Derek didn't say anything. He wasn't sure there was anything _to_ say, then, "I love you."

Stiles opened his other eye and his face softened. "I love you, too."

Derek leaned in for a kiss, and Stiles happily met him halfway.

"Are you feeling better?" Derek asked as they parted, combing a hand through Stiles' wet hair. Since the beginning of his pregnancy he'd begun to grow it out longer, more a lack of buzzing it all off than an actual decision to grow it out, but Derek was quite fond of the long hair.

"A bit," Stiles said, allowing his eyes to fall closed as he leaned in to Derek's touch.

"So what were you doing earlier that triggered the pain?" Derek asked conversationally.

"I wasn't doing anything."

"Stiles."

"Except sitting on the couch eating Cheetos. You can ask Erica."

"You know Cheetos aren't food, right? Isn't that what I've heard you tell your dad about a hundred times?"

"He needs to lose weight. I need to gain it."

"Deaton said you need to gain thirty pounds, max. That means when you have this baby, you'll have to lose at least twenty. Just keep that in mind when you're licking orange powder off your fingers."

"You have such a way with words, my dear Alpha," Stiles said sarcastically. He sighed contently. "I'm about ready to get out of here. Think you could give me a hand?" Derek steadied Stiles as he stepped out onto the rug. The werewolf could have lifted him out, but that only would have angered him. Snatching a towel from the rack, Derek wrapped it around his mate's bare shoulders.

"Thanks," Stiles said, as he shook the wet hair out of his eyes. Derek followed him into the bedroom, watching appreciatively as his mate's skin was bared and then subsequently covered by a pair of sweatpants and an overly large t-shirt. He slid himself carefully onto the bed. After minimal cajoling, he managed to convince Derek to join him. Stiles fell asleep curled into the side of Derek's body with their growing baby nestled warmly between them.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the course of Stiles and Derek's visits to Deaton, the vet ascertained that Stiles' pregnancy was progressing well. They unanimously agreed the baby was a werewolf since werewolves aren't susceptible to human diseases, and their pregnancies are usually much smoother than those of their human counterparts. Stiles was deliriously happy about this fact, despite having no interest in taking the bite.

"Based on what I can tell, Stiles, you seem to be at a healthy 28 weeks. We're going to want to schedule your cesarean somewhere between 36 and 40 weeks. In the meantime, we need to discuss a very important issue. For the birth certificate, you're going to need to list a mother. Either of you can be listed as the father, but if you want this child to exist in normal society, you're going to need to list an actual woman as the mother."

Stiles' face fell. He hadn't considered that.

"You've still got at least two months," Deaton continued. "And the mother would be in name only. Legally, you could require that she sign over her parental rights, and then whichever one of you elects to remain off the birth certificate can adopt the baby. Then, in the eyes of the United States government, you will both be the parents." Deaton could tell they were both uneasy, but there wasn't much else he could do or say to help them.

"Well, that's fucking stupid," Stiles said, once they were in the car. "One of _us_ has to give up _our_ parental rights to some _woman_, in the hopes that she gives them back!"

"We do have three females in the pack," Derek pointed out as they turned onto the main road.

"That's not the point," Stiles said, his hands fluttery wildly. "What are we going to do? Play rock-paper-scissors to decide who gets to father this baby on paper?"

"We'll put your name down," Derek said calmly. "You're the one carrying the baby."

Stiles deflated. "But _you_ are her father. You're the one who put her there, sired her, impregnated me. That's the father's job. _I'm_ her mother."

Derek gave him a sideways glance. "Are you going to teach our child to call you 'Mom,' Stiles?"

"Maybe I will," Stiles said softly, rubbing his hands over his belly. "Maybe I will."

The drive passed in several more minutes of silence before either of them spoke again.

"So do you want me to talk to Erica?" Derek asked conversationally. He spared Stiles only a small glance under the pretense of keeping his eyes on the road.

"You just assume it's going to be Erica? What about Lydia? She's probably smart enough to figure out how to get around needing a mother on the birth certificate at all. Maybe I should ask her first."

Derek cleared his throat. He made Stiles wait while he signaled and turned the car before he replied. "You know there's no other way. It's got to be Allison, Lydia, or Erica. I'm not going to pick for you, but you need to pick one. I don't want any woman to do this except for one of our pack females. That's my only stipulation." He shrugged one shoulder. "Asking Erica might mend the rift between you two."

"Or else she's going to laugh in my face. She's petty enough to do that." Stiles looked down at his belly. "I won't let her babysit you, I promise. She'll probably teach you how to put on hooker makeup before you're 3." He glanced out the window at the passing landscape and heaved a deep sigh. "I'm not going to get around this one, am I?"

"You could always ask Allison."

"I'll put it like this: ever since we went to the vet together, she's been less . . . hostile, but I wouldn't call her friendly."

"Neither would I."

"What—what?" Stiles turned his full attention on his Alpha. "Are you trying to tell me that the werewolf you turned is a bitch, and you're aware of this fact? You willingly turned a bitch into a were-bitch." He paused for a moment. "Heh. Werebitch. I think I just coined a new term."

Derek rolled his eyes in disapproval.

"Anyway," Stiles continued. "Erica is probably," he sighed dramatically, "the best choice. I just don't think it's going to make her like me any more."

"She likes you, she just has a hard time showing emotion."

"Is that a werewolf thing or are you just that good at turning people who are just as emotionally stunted as you?"

Derek's eyebrows met in one long line. "Did you just accuse me of being emotionally stunted?"

Stiles hummed in response. "Not in so many words, but yes. Let's face it, you don't exactly come home shouting, 'Stiles, I love you!'"

"But I do. Love you." Derek gripped the steering wheel tighter and his jaw clenched. "Do you feel like I don't tell you that enough?"

"Derek." Stiles made a noise of disagreement. "Do you think I would doubt your love for me right now? You just drove me to the office of a veterinarian so we could see the progress of our growing werebaby. No, I do not doubt your love for me. What I do doubt, however, is my sanity, judging by the fact that I practically have to get down on my knees in front of the one member of the pack who hates my guts and ask her to be the pretend mother of my child. When did my life get so complicated?"

"When you fell in love with a werewolf?" Derek suggested, raising one of his eyebrows and giving Stiles a half-smile.

"No." Stiles shook his head. "I'm pretty sure it was the moment your dear Uncle Peter bit Scott. I'm going to blame this whole mess on him."

"All of it?" Derek asked, sliding a hand over Stiles' belly.

"Well maybe not that part," Stiles chuckled, threading their fingers together. "That one, I'm blaming all on you."

The rest of the drive was spent enjoying their time alone and the comfortable silence between them that was sometimes hard to come by with the rest of the pack in the house.

By the time Stiles worked up the courage to talk to Erica, he had already imagined at least ten different scenarios for what she might say. He couldn't count the number of times he'd struggled with anxiety over a conversation that had yet to take place. It never got easier, and he always felt the same clench of fear in his chest.

He waited until he knew they were alone in the house before walking downstairs where he knew Erica would be. She was sitting in the living room looking as beautifully dangerous as always. Despite her super hearing, she didn't even look up when he waddled into the room.

"Erica?" he asked, and his voice came out as a squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Are you—can I talk to you?"

Erica turned to him as though they both had no idea she heard him creaking down the stairs towards her in the first place. The smile on her face looked genuine enough, but Stiles could see the venom that surely lurked behind her ruby red lipstick. "Sure. How can I help the mate of my Alpha today?" Coming from her, this was practically a compliment. She switche off the vapid reality television show she had been watching and folded her hands demurely in her lap.

"I have a really big favor to ask of you. Derek and I—well, we need a favor."

"What kind of favor?" Erica asked, bristling. Stiles knew she could hear the pounding of his heart and he struggled to calm himself.

"Just—just hear me out. When the baby's born, we're going to need to list a woman on the birth certificate. Naturally, I want it to be someone in the pack, and you're the only female wolf, well, she-wolf." Stiles' hands fluttered nervously. "You're a wolf. The woman we put on the birth certificate is going to have to sign over her parental rights because obviously," Stiles waved a hand over his belly, "this baby was created by Derek and I, but . . . as a pack, we're stronger than family. This baby belongs to all of us, so if I can kill two birds with one stone—pardon the bad pun—I'd like to list you as the mother on the birth certificate, and Derek as the father. She'll be a Hale, and I'll adopt her legally when you sign over your rights to Derek."

"You want me to pretend to be the mother of Derek's baby? The baby you're carrying?"

Stiles nodded. "You can pretend to be a surrogate, if that makes you feel better. Gay human couples use surrogates all the time."

Erica remained silent for so long Stiles was tempted to rescind the offer before she could refuse, but he forced himself to stay silent despite the war waging in his mind. Her expression was unreadable.

"And if I don't?"

Stiles' heart sank. "Then I'll ask Allison or Lydia. But since you're the only female were—wolf," he continued quickly, hoping she didn't notice his slip, "we figured you were the logical choice. I understand if you don't want to do it, though."

"So I was your first choice?" Erica asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah," Stiles said softly.

Erica uncrossed her arms. "Stiles, I'm flattered. I mean, yes, of course I'll do it. I—thank you for trusting me with this." The smile she gave him then was genuine.

Stiles couldn't help the smile that spread across his own face. It seemed as though Stiles had finally rendered Erica speechless. It was a nice change from Stiles being the one struggling to make his mouth agree with his brain. He leaned over and hugged her before he knew what he was doing. The bulge of his belly between them was a little awkward, but when he felt Erica's arms wrap around him in return, he knew that all had been forgiven.

The days leading up to the birth of their child grew more uncomfortable with every sunrise. Stiles' entire body ached, from his swollen feet to his tense shoulders. It felt like his body was unequipped to carry such a load, a fact from which Mother Nature should have precluded him. He could hardly walk without help, his bladder was the size of a pea, and he hadn't seen his feet (not to mention his dick) in weeks. If the appendages weren't necessary for getting to and using the bathroom, he might believe they had both fallen off somewhere along the way.

The pack tried to be as helpful as possible, making him tea and rubbing his feet without seeming obtrusive. Derek had required that at least one member of the pack stay with Stiles at all times, a fact Stiles himself had begrudgingly accepted as necessary that he didn't even argue. Isaac made the best ginger tea to settle his stomach, and Allison would help him to the bathroom without making him feel embarrassed. The others fit into the puzzle perfectly as well, and Stiles couldn't imagine going through this without every single one of them.

His father would stop by the house from time to time, concern written heavily on his face, but every time, Derek and the rest of the pack reassured him that his son was being cared for exceptionally. He had long since gotten past the shock of finding out that his gay son was now pregnant by a werewolf, and his only worry was for the health of his son and future grandchild. He would leave the house only after hugging Stiles tightly and thanking the rest of the pack when he thought Stiles couldn't hear him. His son didn't have super hearing, but he had become quite adept at reading his dad's lips over the years.

When Stiles crawled into bed one night about a week before the baby was due, Derek was already there. He was propped up against several pillows with a book in his hand. Reading glasses would have completed the look, but along with their superior healing abilities, werewolves were also gifted with perfect eyesight.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, placing his bookmark between the pages and setting it aside. He gave Stiles a curious look like he couldn't feel the frustration and discomfort rolling off his mate in waves. Numerous times he had asked Stiles if he could take the pain away, but his mate just shook his head.

"I'm okay," Stiles replied, wrinkling his nose. He slid closer, Derek helping to adjust his body until they were snuggled up together. "Everything hurts and I can hardly move, but I'm okay. I wouldn't go back in time and choose not to do this."

"I know," Derek said, rubbing his cheek against the top of Stiles' head.

"It's kind of hard to complain when I've got a whole pack of werewolves waiting on me hand and foot. I hardly have time to say, 'I want,' before it's in my hand," Stiles said through a yawn. "Have I ever told you that you're the best Alpha ever?"

"Yep. Usually that occurs after I've given you numerous orgasms."

"I knew there was a reason I joined your werewolf gang."

Derek's laughter echoed down the hallway.

The morning of Stiles' scheduled C-section, Derek brought him breakfast in bed. "Stiles," the werewolf whispered, rubbing their morning stubble together. "Wake up, Little Red, it's time to bring our cub into the world."

Stiles opened his eyes, groaning a little. His head lolled towards the nightstand. "You made bacon," he mumbled. He cocked his head up higher and his eyes lit up. "And jalapeños! You are the best baby daddy ever," he sighed. "Last night I was dreaming that I went back to school, but I couldn't find a sitter for the baby, so I had to take her with me." He stretched out his arms and legs, looking like he'd hidden a basketball under the sheets with him.

"Don't count on that one coming true. You've got a whole cache of people downstairs who are going to be vying pretty hard to watch the baby while you're at school. Not to mention the fact that I have plenty of time to, how did you put it? 'Brood and stalk teenagers in their bedrooms.'"

Stiles dropped his head back onto the pillows. "You did. I could come home practically any time to find your scowl sitting in my desk chair. And look where it got me." He gestured at the expanse of his belly.

"Pregnant and barefoot, just where I wanted you," Derek said with a wink. "I thought I'd bring you breakfast in bed since I'm too nervous to sleep and I need something to do with my hands."

"You're nervous?" Stiles said, allowing Derek to stack pillows behind him so he could sit up. "I'm the one who's about to willing like take an anesthetic and then allow a veterinarian to cut a baby out of me, and you're nervous. Okay." Stiles gave Derek a look of disbelief as he helped himself to a large bite.

"I'm the one who's going to be awake worrying enough for both of us. Besides, Deaton knows what he's doing, or else I would have found us a midwife."

"If I die on that table, I will haunt you."

"Stiles," Derek said seriously, "you're going to be fine. The whole pack is going to be there to support us, and before we know it, we'll have our child in our arms, and all of this will just seem like a bad dream."

"I hope so," Stiles groused, taking another bite of his Spanish omelet.

The pack gathered at Deaton's office late that morning, all nine of them, including the Sheriff. They had decided to schedule the cesarean for a Sunday, so that the odds of someone needing Deaton would be reduced significantly. Scott was on call to deal with any emergencies. They had opted to bring in a cot for Stiles to lay on, rather than allowing his legs to hang awkwardly off the table, which wasn't comfortable to be used during an exam in the first place.

Deaton had asked the pack mates except for Scott, who would be assisting him, and Derek and the Sheriff to wait in the lobby. He needed a calm, sterile environment in which to work, and everyone's emotions were running high. He had never delivered a human child before, let alone a human-werewolf hybrid from a man.

Stiles took an inordinately long amount of time situating himself on the cot. The others knew it was his nerves, so they watched silently as Stiles demanded Derek fluff his pillow and get him an extra blanket for his feet. "I don't want to have cold feet when the baby is born," he joked, though nobody laughed. When he was situated, Stiles reached out and took ahold of Derek's hand tightly. "I'm scared," he whispered, too softly for anyone but Derek to hear him.

"I know, but it's all going to work out in the end. When you wake up, you'll have a beautiful new baby in your arms," Derek tried to reassure him. "We wouldn't be trusting Deaton with this if we weren't 100% certain he could bring you both through it."

"We need to get started, Stiles," Deaton said softly, approaching him from behind Derek. He had a mask in his hand that would carry the nitrous oxide into Stiles' lungs to put him out for the duration of the surgery.

"Don't let go," he begged, keeping his caramel eyes on Derek. He had suddenly begun to feel like a rabbit caught in a trap. He very seriously contemplated jumping off the table and demanding they stop this insanity.

"I won't," Derek promised, giving Stiles' hand a reassuring squeeze.

"If anything happens to me—"

"You're going to be fine," the Sheriff said firmly from Stiles' other side. He left the _I lost your mother and I am not losing you_ unspoken.

"Just relax, Stiles," Deaton said, as he lowered a mask down over Stiles' face. "I'm going to count backwards from 10. Just close your eyes and breathe. 10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . ."

Stiles kept his eyes on Derek as long as he could, but he fell asleep before Deaton got to 5.

When Stiles became conscious again, it was to the feeling of Derek snuffling his cheek and whispering in his ear. "Quit it," he mumbled, pushing at Derek's face, but his lover was insistent. "Derek," Stiles grumbled, his voice raspy from the anesthetic. He drew in a breath and coughed to clear his throat and lungs. "Derek, get off me." The heat of Derek's body left him and Stiles dragged his eyes open. It felt like they each weighed a ton for how difficult it was to perform the otherwise simple action. "I'm home," Stiles said, looking around their bedroom in confusion. His head was muggy. All the pieces didn't seem to fit together right.

"It made more sense to bring you back here while you were still asleep."

Stiles nodded, hearing the words, but not completely understanding them. Derek was still partially wrapped around his body, and the familiar presence of his lover gave him some measure of comfort. His attention fell to his significantly smaller belly, and the incision that stretched from his navel to nearly the base of his cock. It seemed like his realization of the cut brought back the pain that accompanied it. "The baby?" he asked, unable to form more than two words.

Derek said Erica's name softly. She entered the room carrying a bundle wrapped in the baby blanket Stiles' grandmother had made for him. In that moment, Stiles just _knew_. "It's a girl," he said in amazement as Erica settled the baby in his arms for the first time.

"You knew all along," Erica said, with a soft smile as she drew back to allow the little family some space.

For the span of several heartbeats, all Stiles could do was just stare at the baby in his arms that he and Derek had created together with their love. The emotion bubbling in his chest was almost too much to take. He wiped at the tears on his cheeks distractedly, only because they were blurring the vision he had of seeing his daughter for the first time. "She's beautiful," he choked out.

"Like her father," Derek said, pressing a kiss firmly to the side of Stiles' head. "I'm so proud of you. You did great."

"I didn't do much," Stiles rasped, licking his dry lips. He tore his attention away from their child, leaning his forehead against Derek's. "I was asleep the whole time."

"Not for the nine months it took to carry her." Derek rubbed their cheeks together, an obvious display of marking his territory, reclaiming his mate. "She needs a name," he said, leaning over to brush his fingertips against the dark tuft of hair on his daughter's head.

"Madeline," Stiles said thoughtfully, "Madeline Rose Hale."

"Hale?" Derek asked, giving Stiles a sideways glance. "Are you sure?"

"Well, she is a Hale," Stiles said matter-of-factly. "My dad and I are Stilinskis and now you and Maddy are Hales. She's a werewolf, anyway. It just fits."

They sat together for a while, just watching Maddy sleep, until a noise from the doorway reminded them that Erica was still standing there. "I don't mean to intrude, but there's a few people out here who would like to see you, Stiles."

"Send them in," Stiles said without taking his eyes off of Maddy.

"Are you sure?" Derek asked, his voice betraying a slight growl.

"They're our pack, Derek." Stiles placed his free hand on his mate's thigh. "They aren't going to hurt us."

The small group filed in: Erica, Scott, Allison, Boyd, Isaac, Lydia with a reluctant Jackson, and the Sheriff perched in the doorway. The pack mates formed a semicircle around the bed, cooing and admiring their newest member.

"Come on, then. Get on the bed. I know you want to," Stiles told the group, glittering eyes roaming from person to person.

"Stiles," Derek growled, louder this time.

Stiles' hand slid down Derek's thigh to fold their fingers together. He placed Derek's hand against the t-shirt covering his incision. "Just this once won't hurt."

Pride swelled in Derek's face as he took Stiles' pain so the pack could clamber onto the bed around them. The only person who remained standing was Stiles' father. His face was indescribable as he watched his son's adopted family coo over him and his new baby.

"Get over here, Grandpa," Stiles said, grinning. "I know you've probably had plenty of time to hold her while I was out, but the first pack bonding is very important for new werewolves. I read that in 'What to Expect When You're Expecting a Werebaby.'"

"You just remind me so much of your mother, Stiles," the Sheriff said softly, as he crossed the room to perch on the edge of the bed.

"Minus the collection of werewolves around me, though, right?"

"Maddy has your nose. You both got that from your mother."

Stiles gave his father a meaningful look. It said everything that they were both never able to put into words: how much they loved one another, how proud they were of each other, and how hard it had been since Stiles' mother died. They weathered the storm together, and came out better for it.

"She's got Daddy's eyes, though," Stiles said softly, as Maddy opened her eyes and looked at him for the first time. "Good morning, beautiful." He looked up at the people on the bed, the people that he loved more than anyone else in the world. "I couldn't have done this without you guys."

In return, the pack gave him varying degrees of smiles and reassuring comments. They were a family, a pack, in every sense of the word.

"Thank you," Derek said, leaning down to kiss Stiles. The number of things for which he was thankful was innumerable, but the two words were enough to suffice.

~Fin~


End file.
